


The Thanks You Get

by Rehfan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, French Kissing, Frottage, Het and Slash, Heterosexual Sex, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Rimming, Sherlock - AU, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1920 and the mystery of a missing jewel has been solved. During the case Greg Lestrade has fallen for a woman above his meager station.</p><p>His boyfriend Sherlock Holmes isn't too happy about it, but the detective's curiosity has been piqued.</p><p>What's a girl to do when two gorgeous men want to satisfy their... curiosity?</p><p>~~~~</p><p>This is a birthday present for the wonderful and scintillant Lady Elayne. (And yes, folks: it's a Mary Sue story. Get over it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyElayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyElayne/gifts).



“Lady Elaine?” asked Lord Greenwood. The lady in green silk smiled politely and proffered her hand which was summarily kissed gently by the lord. “I trust you had a pleasant journey this afternoon. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to greet you this morning, but I did have my duties to perform in parliament.”

“I quite understand, Lord Greenwood,” Lady Elaine responded, not missing a beat. Her etiquette was impeccable, as were her jewels and every wisp of her hair. This evening was to be a congratulatory one for the decorated Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade of Scotland Yard, the famed consulting detective Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and his colleague Dr. John Watson. If it weren’t for them, her prize jewel, the Green Carbuncle, would this very minute be on a boat for mainland China in exchange for some innocent young girls’ lives. Lady Elaine intended to thank these gentlemen properly with a formal dinner. The Greenwoods were kind enough to allow her to use their manor home as hers was still being repaired from the break-in.

It was a harrowing experience, the robbery. She was so thankful that DI Lestrade was there to look after her. He was kind and competent in the face of such a mystery. And he helped take the stress off the situation from the get-go. She was especially glad that he was so good-looking a man as well. She had to admit that he quite took her breath away.

Something about the detective inspector made her shiver inside. Was it his easy manner at a crime scene? Was it his dark, piercing look? Perhaps it was his broad shoulders, gravelly voice, or his strong jawline that brought her to her knees with the thought of him. Whatever the reason, she had to know him on a more… intimate level. And she intended to look her best for him tonight.

She was never what fashion journals would call a “ravishing beauty”. She had gotten a few compliments in her youth what with her porcelain skin and flaming red hair, but that was a few decades ago and these days she noticed just a few stray grey strands in among the copper. Her skin too, had taken more of a peachy tone over the years rather than an untouchable scintillate white and at times gave her a bit of discouragement. Oh, if she had known Greg Lestrade fifteen years ago! How different she might have seemed to him! He may have been moved to glance at her overlong. He might have even tried to make love to her.

Elaine sighed as she checked her hair and face in the hall mirror. It was all for naught. She adored him; he was never to notice her. It was just as well, really. She was a widow after all. And what man in his right mind dallies with a widow, be she young or old?

Her Charles had died in a trench in Flanders, his body shipped home to be identified. In the end it was her brother-in-law Edward that did the identifying. Elaine hadn’t the heart. She preferred to remember Charles as he was: strong, forthright, stalwart, conventional. As a husband he was tolerably admirable. As a lover… well. And as a father: distant but dutiful.

Little George was named for his grandfather. She was so proud when he learned to ride his pony. Neither Charles nor Elaine had any idea about the bone disease until George had broken his leg riding the animal. “No more riding,” the doctor had said. George was crushed that he was forbade to ride ever again. Seven years old and his world had come to a standstill. The day they sold the pony, George refused to eat. It took them three days to convince him to take some broth. And even after he did, he still ate like a bird. The doctor said that the bone never set right because of that.

Then came the war. Charles was gone. George thought himself the lord of the manor in the absence of his father. One night, up when he wasn’t supposed to be and limping because of his foreshortened leg, he fell headlong down the grand staircase. His head bleeding, he told the butler Nestor that he was investigating a sound when he tripped and fell. And just as Elaine reached him, he died. Just like that.

Elaine caught herself in the mirror of the Greenwood manor and daubed a handkerchief to her eye. No puffy swollen eyes tonight, my dear. No. Tonight was about three very clever gentlemen and her gratitude toward them. That was all. Elaine put aside her memories and pain of the past, lifted her head high and smiled at her own reflection. Tonight was going to be wonderful.

 

~080~

 

“You have to go, Sherlock,” said John. “Lady Elaine has invited us personally. We have to dress now and get in a hansom or we’ll be late!” John was in his formal evening attire and pushing Sherlock toward his bedroom to get dressed as well. “We can’t NOT go! We’re the guests of honor!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, entered his bedroom and said, “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll eat. I might even smile at the silly people. But I WON’T like it.” He closed the door on John.

John sighed, “I know you won’t, Sherlock, but you’re going to go -- and you will be civil! I’m not going to allow you to embarrass me in front of everyone just because you choose to act like a five-year-old.”

“I don’t understand why the woman has to show her gratitude through social formalities, John,” Sherlock called through the door. “We found her jewel. That’s all.”

“And managed to stop a human trafficking exchange because of it,” John pointed out.

“Yes yes…,” grumbled Sherlock. “But really… a formal dinner at a manor house? I don’t see why it has to happen. They should just pay my fee and get on with their lives.”

“Well, Greg’s going,” said John, “He seems to think it’s worthwhile.”

“That’s another thing,” said Sherlock as he poked his half-dressed head through the door. “What the hell does he see in her anyway?” His head disappeared again and through the crack, John could see that Sherlock was buttoning his crisp white linen shirt and fastening the cuffs. At this rate, they wouldn’t be late after all.

“What are you talking about?” asked John, pushing the door open a tad more. “What does who see in whom?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. “Lestrade and Lady Elaine, of course,” he said.

John was a bit stunned at this news. “Greg… and Lady… Really?” he asked, mystified.

“She’s far above his station, of course,” said Sherlock in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Whatever they get up to won’t last.”

“But,” began John delicately, “I was under the impression that you and Greg…” His voice left off the obvious end to the question. John was aware of Greg and Sherlock’s predilection for one another and while he knew it was against the law, he personally really didn’t have much objection to it.

Morally, John was of two minds about such things: either the two men in question kept it to themselves (as Sherlock and Greg clearly did) or they were depraved enough to think that outward expression would somehow be defiantly provocative and win them some sort of credit from the community for being brave. In John’s eyes, all these men did was garner scorn and time in a jail cell.

But with Sherlock and Greg, things were worlds different. While John was aware of their practice of buggery, he didn’t necessarily want to be subjected to the sight of it in his everyday life. He was glad that Sherlock and Greg were of the more discreet and reserved type of men.

“We are, John,” said Sherlock. “But I do not prevent Gregory from his pursuits, nor does he prevent me from mine.”

“You… have other… interests?” asked John. 

“No,” said Sherlock, “but I could if I wanted. It’s the nature of our agreement.”

“I see,” said John. “So if you met a nice woman and wanted to settle down…”

“Certainly,” said Sherlock. “Conversely, if he were to meet someone and wish to marry, he is free to do so and with my blessing. A marriage vow will end our relationship, however. That is also part of our agreement.”

“And you would be alright with this?” asked John, genuinely concerned for his friend. It wasn’t often that Sherlock made connections with people and John wanted to be certain that Sherlock wasn’t setting himself up for emotional heartache.

Sherlock gave John a withering glance. “Of course I would. It’s part of our agreement.”

“Right,” said John, a bit abashed.

Sherlock strode from the room in his full formal dinner dress. “Come, John. You’re about to make us late for dinner.”

 

~080~

 

“Lady Elaine,” said Gregory Lestrade. He bowed to her and kissed her hand gently. “So good of you to put on this dinner for us.”

“Not at all, detective inspector,” she replied. “I’m only too happy to do it. And I do owe Lord Greenwood and his family a debt for allowing me to hold it here in their lovely home.”

“It seems they’ve rolled out the red carpet for us,” he said. Behind him Sherlock Holmes and John Watson waited patiently. She greeted them in much the same manner and Sherlock and John moved away to speak with Lord Greenwood. This left Gregory and Elaine to each other’s company in the drawing room.

They sat on the sofa before the fire and fell into pleasant talk of crime and criminals. Elaine couldn’t help but notice Gregory’s appearance. He was wearing a dark suit with a crisp white shirt that set off the silver-grey in his hair. As he spoke of his profession, his passion for his subject lit up his dark eyes and his voice became mesmerizing. He regaled her with tales of his adventures, his hands moving as he spoke in excited tones to her and only her.

By conventional standards it was a bit rude of him to concentrate on Elaine alone, but she didn’t seem to mind. Every word from his lips was like honey and what most women of her generation and standing would consider unwelcome subjects of the seedier side of human life, she ate up ravenously. He was relating another story with yet another miracle solution provided by the illustrious Mr. Holmes when Elaine remarked: “You seem quite proud of him.”

“He’s a remarkable man,” said Greg wistfully.

“So it appears,” she said.

The time for the meal had arrived and Lestrade offered Elaine his arm. He was seated at her right at table, Mr. Holmes at her left, with Dr. Watson further along the table, and opposite from Sherlock. There were others in the room, to be sure. Lady Greenwood would never have settled for anything less than a gathering of her most intimate friends at a dinner such as this – if only to even up the numbers. A toast was made to Lady Elaine and the three men and the first course of dinner was served.

As the meal progressed, the conversation was lively enough, the food wonderful and prepared beautifully. The only one who didn’t appear to be having a good time was Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He picked at his food and Elaine noticed that more than once Dr. Watson would audibly clear his throat to get Sherlock’s attention in order to glare at him disapprovingly.

After the third occurrence, Elaine leaned over to Gregory and whispered: “It seems Mr. Holmes is displeased. Is there anything wrong, do you think?”

Greg glanced up at Sherlock and whispered, “Nothing to concern yourself with, M’Lady. Sherlock—er, that is, Mr. Holmes is a peculiar gentleman prone to odd behavior upon occasion. I believe that since your problem has been resolved, he suffers from boredom. Mind you, this is not to be taken as a reflection upon your wonderful gathering. Mr. Holmes is just… well… Sherlock.” He shrugged and smiled at her apologetically.

“Well, I have to admit that to be bored in such company is indeed unusual,” she said, “but he is a man of extraordinary gifts and I suppose some understanding must be afforded him.”

“If it concerns your Ladyship that much,” he said, “I shall endeavor to speak to him later this evening.”

“Oh! Would you? That would be most kind,” she said.

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” he said and gave her a beautiful wide smile.

Elaine felt her face flush at the sight of his grin. Lord in heaven, he was handsome. “Thank you, Gregory,” she said breathlessly, forgetting herself and using his Christian name for the first time. She had to admit that it felt reckless and shameful to do so, but as most naughty things are prone to cause dueling emotions, it also felt very thrilling. Her tone when she spoke held a tinge of the passion she felt and his smile faltered. His gaze flickered to her mouth and Elaine held her breath. He seemed to recover in a moment’s time and his smile regained its brightness. He turned back to his meal and Elaine suddenly felt the need for another sip of wine.

 

~080~

 

Greg led Sherlock back to his rooms in the Greenwood manse. The three of them were expected to spend the night and leave again in the morning as the fete was meant to run quite late into the evening. Greg closed the door gently. It did not catch. He turned to confront Sherlock thinking that it was closed.

Sherlock gazed out the window of the room and said, “So… is she to become your lover or are you planning to court her formally?”

“What? No! I mean… perhaps…,” stammered Greg, “Never mind that now. Lady Elaine thinks you ungrateful, you know. Your behavior at dinner was deplorable.”

Sherlock sniffed. “Greg, you’re in danger of sounding like my brother. Besides, John has already informed me that I was ill-behaved at dinner,” he said. Sherlock seemed completely unconcerned that his behavior was disapproved of. “There is nothing the wealthy of this world detest more than ingratitude from someone they see as less fortunate than themselves when they’ve deigned to grace them with a favor. I’m sure they’ll get past it, Greg.”

“The point is, Sherlock,” said Greg. “that they shouldn’t have to get past it. You embarrassed John and I this evening. And you’ve embarrassed yourself – if you’d have bothered to be embarrassed.”

Sherlock went to Greg and wrapped his arms around his chest. “You’re right. I should apologize,” he said and placed a small kiss to Greg’s neck. “And I will,” he added, placing another small kiss to Greg’s jawline. “Tomorrow.” His lips met Greg’s and the welcome warmth of them made Greg moan wantonly. 

They broke apart hurriedly when they hear the door creak open.

Elaine gasped. She stood in the doorway, one hand on the door, the other over her mouth. Swiftly, Sherlock pulled her gently but firmly into the room, shutting and locking it behind them.

“The door was open… slightly…” she began, “I thought… that is… I heard you talking… I was on my way to my own rooms to get a handkerchief… I just thought—“

“Lady Elaine, please calm yourself,” said Greg, offering a seat in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. She sat stiffly, mumbling to herself in shock and casting her eyes about the room in a helpless and worrying manner.

Greg and Sherlock exchanged a hopeless glance. “Lady Elaine,” said Greg, kneeling before her, “Allow me to explain…”

“What?” she asked distractedly. “No! No… don’t bother to say anything. I understand perfectly.”

“Yes,” said Greg. “I’m sure you do… but I really should try to tell you—“

“You have a brother who has the same… proclivities as we. Don’t you?” said Sherlock. Two heads snapped up to look at Sherlock.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” said Elaine, “A brother I love very much.” She looked at Greg and placed her hand on his. “A brother I wouldn’t betray for the world.” Greg smiled at her gratefully. “It was just such a shock, really. Does Doctor Watson know?” The two men nodded. Elaine smiled. “That’s alright then,” she said. “The only pain I have is that I could have sworn… but I see that I was mistaken. My apologies to you, detective inspector.” And with that, she rose to go.

“You weren’t mistaken, M’Lady,” said Greg.

“I’m sorry?” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean,” he said, approaching her closely and looking right in her eyes, “You weren’t mistaken. At all.” He gently took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.

“But I thought you and Mr. Holmes…” said Elaine, still a bit mystified. In her world, things were either black or white, up or down. This was a new color to imagine, a new direction to move in. She could feel his breath on her neck and closed her eyes as his lips met her skin like a brand.

“He’s very instinctive, don’t you agree, Lady Elaine?” asked Sherlock. He was watching her reaction with a bemused grin.

“Dear God,” breathed Elaine, scarcely able to register what was happening. She turned to Greg, not daring to hope that he meant all that was communicated to her, and she was rewarded with a smoldering grin and wicked eyes.

“Mr. Holmes and I have an understanding,” he replied. “He and I have this certain… openness to our tastes in common. Up until now we have agreed to have dealings of this nature only with one another. Until you came along, that is.”

“I? What could I have done to turn your head, detective inspector?” she said.

Greg looked at her askance. “Is that a trick question?” he said.

“No,” she said, “I didn’t believe… I mean – I knew you were a kind man…”

“You didn’t think he was attracted to you?” asked Sherlock.

“No,” she said, blushing, “I didn’t think – What I mean to say is: I am a widow. You couldn’t possibly want someone who was as… used up as I.”

“Used up?” asked Greg. “My dear lady, you are never used up. Why look at you! Your skin is unblemished by time, your hair a beautiful ginger shade, and as for your mind… “ Sherlock huffed out a derisive snort. Greg turned to him and gave him a withering look. “Look you, as her Ladyship is so far beneath your notice, I believe you can go.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Lady Elaine spoke: “Gentlemen, please. I don’t wish to come between you. You obviously have a history together and I don’t wish to spoil an arrangement such as yours. Please, don’t quarrel. I will go and we’ll forget all of this ever happened.”

“Not to be contrary, M’Lady,” said Greg, “but I’m afraid my answer is no. You cannot think of leaving my life now. Not when you know and accept the truth of who I am.” He took her by the shoulders and stooped a bit to look right into her eyes. “Please, you gorgeous creature, stay with me here.” He cupped her face with his hands and placed a soft, warm, chaste kiss to her lips. “Please,” he said.

They both looked up at the sound of a soft click as the door closed behind Sherlock. “Oh Greg,” she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“ 

“Nonsense,” said he, throwing an irritated glance at the door, “he’s just gone stroppy for the moment. He’ll get over it.” He moved her to the door. “The others will be looking for you before long. Please go downstairs and be with the ladies. We will join you presently, I’m sure. But wait—“ He pulled her back and whispered urgently to her: “I will come to you tonight. Leave your door unlocked. I need to have you. Please, Elaine. Please be mine.”

Elaine’s head spun. She reacted without thinking, kissing him quickly and assuring him that she would indeed welcome him to her bed. He warmed her heart with a smile and a wink and she made her way back to the drawing room where all sorts of useless distractions lay between her and the time that Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade would hurl her body and soul into a chasm of ecstasy.


	2. Chapter 2

Elaine dismissed her ladies’ maid earlier than normal, but the maid herself didn’t look as though she minded. She left Elaine in her shift and dressing gown. There was a candle by the bed and a fire in the grate. She had no idea when exactly Greg was planning on gaining access to her rooms, but she knew she had to wait until the normal activity of the house died down.

She got beneath the warmed bedcovers and waited. She still didn’t quite understand how a man could be attracted to women as well as to men, but she wasn’t going to concern herself with it. It was enough that the handsome detective inspector wanted her. It was more than enough actually; it was almost too much. To think that a man like him, one who must meet women on almost a daily basis, should wish to bother with a lonely widow such as she… it was far more than she felt she deserved.

Yet, Elaine was no fool. There could be no lasting relationship here. They were from two very different social circles and while her portion of society understood her need to welcome this man into their fold for the evening to thank him for a job well done, she would become the talk of the town if she decided to take him as a lover— or worse: a suitor. She didn’t dare hope for more than just these next few precious hours with the man. She would lay with him and be satisfied and that would be all.

She sincerely hoped that Mr. Holmes wasn’t too put out by Greg’s infatuation with her. Surely he could see that this was a simple dalliance and nothing more. He was a man of the world. He would understand. Once they had rejoined the others, Greg had whispered his assurance that his hurt feelings (if indeed there were hurt feelings) were only temporary and would not last the night; by breakfast time he should be entirely his old self. This made her feel worlds better about it because she did not despise Sherlock.

On the contrary, she was grateful to him for the recovery of her precious stone as well as all those lives he managed to free at the same time. He was simply extraordinary.

As she lay there waiting for Gregory, she had to admit to herself that she found Sherlock to be a striking man. He wasn’t as classically handsome as Greg, but there was something about him that made him… almost exotic.

Elaine supposed it was his eyes; they were almond-shaped and such a crisp and stunning blue-green. Coupled with his alabaster skin and his dark lashes he was an imposing figure. His intelligence and abrupt manner made him a force to contend with as well. He was the complete polar opposite of Elaine’s late husband, Charles.

Charles was not stupid, but he was no match for Sherlock’s intellect and where Charles’ hair was fair, Sherlock’s was dark. Where Charles’ skin tanned in the sun, Sherlock looked as though he would burn in an instant. Where Charles was stocky, Sherlock was lithe. Yes… Sherlock Holmes was certainly an attractive figure. She only wished he liked her better. Perhaps he would forgive her for her tryst with Greg after it was all said and done. She hoped so.

There was a light knock at the door and it opened a crack. Greg whispered her name softly. She whispered back. Quickly Greg slipped in and closed the door behind him. He locked it and left the key in the hole before turning to face Elaine. She could see his breath catch when he spied her.

She sat upright when he had knocked. Her face was flush with excitement turning her peachy skin tone rosy. Her hair was undone and spilled over her shoulders, the color of her tresses like burnished copper in the firelight. She saw Greg staring and he swallowed hard. He was rendered speechless at the sight of her. One strap of her shift had slipped down her shoulder and it was all Greg could do to not scramble over the bed toward her just to kiss her skin.

Elaine was breathless as she gaped at him. He had his dressing gown on, but no shirt beneath and she could see some of the skin of his broad hairy chest in the firelight. She couldn’t help herself. She said, “Come here, Gregory. I have to touch you.”

He was at her bedside in an instant, standing there and holding her in strong arms, pressing his lips to hers. He broke the kiss and caressed her face. Then he leaned in and licked at her lips. She gasped and pulled back in shock. 

“Elaine?” said Greg, clearly worried that he had crossed some strange line.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing. “It’s just… my Charles… was never so… adventurous.”

Greg looked at her as though she had told him that she were the Queen of England. “Are you telling me that your husband had never so much as…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. “I’m sorry… but you’ve never?”

“Charles was not – “ she began, pausing to search for just the right word. “He wasn’t creative,” she said.

“I see,” said Greg. He gave her a devilish grin and removed his dressing gown and his pyjama bottoms. He stood before her stark naked and for a brief moment, Elaine was tempted to look away, but she forced herself to gaze upon him. After all, what was the point of all this if she couldn’t appreciate the man that was to bed her? “Let me in, love,” he said.

She moved over and he climbed into the bed. He took her into his arms and held her closely. With the back of one gentle hand he stroked her face as he spoke to her in hushed tones. “You and I will take things slowly then,” he said. “I have no wish to frighten you. Only tell me when you are frightened and I will stop whatever I’m doing so that you are comfortable. Is that alright?”

Elaine nodded and he smiled and kissed her softly. He shifted his weight to look down on her but did not rest his weight upon her. He gazed at her for many minutes, his fingertips tracing the outline of her face, along her hairline, across her jaw, and over her lips. Her instincts were screaming at her to do something she would never have considered doing with Charles, but then, there were so many things she wanted to try and Charles would never have even considered it. But Gregory would. He would kiss her in all the places she wanted and the thought of this man’s mouth on her neck, breasts, stomach… Dear God.

He ran his thumb over her mouth more than once and eventually Elaine gave into temptation: she took his finger into her mouth and licked it with her tongue. Heat shot straight to her groin at the feel of his rough finger against her velvet tongue and it magnified by a thousand when she saw Greg’s forehead crease and heard his soft moan. She wanted that to happen again.

He captured her mouth in a deep kiss and ran his free hand down her neck and along her breastbone with a feather-light touch. Gooseflesh sprung up along her skin as he caressed her belly. Her muscles quivered reflexively under his touch. He broke the kiss and watched her tremble with anticipation of his touch.

He pushed aside the bed covers to see her in her shift. He snaked his hand slowly beneath it, gagueing his progress by Elaine’s responses. She made no sign of protest and eventually the garment was discarded to the floor. He gazed at her naked form in the soft light. Placing his hand back on her abdomen, he studied her every move, watching her with utter fascination as she lightly clutched at the bed sheets and writhed with pure desire. “Please, Greg,” she begged. “Don’t stop.”

“Jesus… how beautiful are you, then?” he whispered reverently.

She grabbed his head and leaned up, placing a burning kiss on his mouth. “Touch me, Greg,” she said.

He kissed her and leaned in, placing her head back on the pillow as his hand slid down to her wet warm cunt. He slid his middle finger between her folds and she gasped with the friction and pressure. “Shhh… love. Easy,” he warned her. “Mustn’t make a sound, gorgeous. Don’t want anyone to hear us.” He dipped his tongue in her mouth, teasing her. “Shhh… just let me kiss you everywhere,” he said.

“Oh God yes,” she said.

He began with her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking until they stood up firm. It was nothing she’d ever felt before; her pussy being stroked and a warm mouth on her tits… it was almost too much. All she could do was card her hands through his hair and encourage him with whispered words and phrases she would never dare use in polite society: “Jesus, Greg… Oh God this is so good… You feel so perfect… Don’t stop.”

He inserted that one thick finger inside her and she arched her back, stifling a moan. She never knew sex could be like this. Things had always been so… predictable before. His thumb rubbed her clit and she damn near lost her mind. What in hell was that?!

She could barely breathe and she stared at Greg in abject shock and helplessness at her body’s reactions to his ministrations. For his part, he was peeking at her and flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple, enjoying the pleasure he was able to awaken in her. “Oh God,” she whispered. “You bad bad man… Oh Jesus…” Her hands made fists in his hair and her hips rocked back and forth instinctively. Had they been in the quiet of her own house, she would have sent the servants away for the night and she would have been able to scream her pleasure to the rafters. She needed desperately to tell Greg that what he was doing was amazing, fantastic, thrilling… no – orgasmic. She felt herself get thoroughly wet and suddenly she needed more inside her than his one finger. “More, Greg,”’ she whimpered softly. “I need more of you… inside… please.”

Slowly she felt his hand shift. There was more pressure inside of her and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a loud whimper of surprise. He moved his fingers in and out of her in a slow rhythm that her hips picked up and soon they were rocking together, his thumb still on her clit, teasing and pressing it, his mouth wet and warm and exploring her torso, placing fiery kisses underneath her breasts, his stubble rough against her delicate skin, and moving down her abdomen to dip his tongue into her navel, making her gasp with astonishment.

“Fuck me, you’re wet,” he managed to whisper, his voice husky with passion. “May I have a taste?”

“What?” she asked. Greg Lestrade was a man of great creativity, it seemed. “You mean you want…?”

He removed his fingers from her opening and placed them inside his mouth. He closed his eyes as he pulled them from between his lips and let out a low moan. Elaine couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “Jesus Christ, Elaine,” said Greg. He looked down at her wet folds. “May I taste you properly?’

“Oh dear God in heaven,” she said. Greg took that for a “yes” and positioned himself between her knees. Gently he ran his fingertips up and down her thighs and Elaine’s hips rocked in anticipation. “You mean,” asked Elaine, “you intend to… down there?” Greg nodded and licked his lips.

“You taste so good, Elaine,” said Greg. I have to. Please.”  
“Yes, Greg,” said Elaine, having no idea what this might feel like, but suspecting that, like everything else this man had done to her, it would be explosive.

No sooner had she given her consent, Greg was moving the flat of his tongue from her opening to her clit. Elaine came unglued. She grabbed a pillow and threw it over her face, screaming into it as he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, laving it with flat strokes, circling it, and sucking it up into his mouth to rub it between his lips.

Fireworks shot down both of her legs in sporadic intervals as she did everything in her power not to curse out loud. Her brain was on fire with all the information it was receiving, causing her breathing to stutter and hitch and her limbs to grasp for purchase against anything they could reach. She could feel his mouth travel downward to her opening and she stifled another cry as she felt him taste her deeply. She rocked her hips up to accommodate him, her feet lifting from the mattress and she reached down to caress the back of his head. He moved his hands to the underside of her thighs and hooked them underneath her knees, pressing downward and out, increasing his access to her vagina. She could feel his stubble against her skin, his hot mouth and the pressure from his tongue. It was almost too much at once. She never wanted this man to stop. If anything, she needed more.

“Please,” she whispered as loudly as she dared, “Greg… I need it. Please…. Want more.” He brought his mouth back to her clit and she steeled herself for another round of the same when Greg suddenly hummed against her with the barest touch of his lips. Instantly her back arched and she saw stars. Clasping the pillow over her face once more, she screamed as her orgasm surged up and over her, through her and around her.

Just as she came down from this dizzying height, she felt the pressure of him enter her. He was thick and hard and she was so wet he slipped right in with hardly any effort. He leaned over her, moving the pillow out of the way. Her face held the expression of one who has claimed to have seen God Himself. He kissed her and for the first time she tasted him with the flavor of her mixed. He moved inside her in a slow languid rhythm and never stopped kissing her. Before long, his rhythm became more urgent and she knew that he would spend himself inside her soon. Daringly, she gripped his buttocks, enjoying the feel of the tight muscle flexing under her hands, and helped pull him inside her deeply as he thrust along, exciting her own desire to come again.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he drove himself inside her over and over. “Oh dear Christ, Gregory,” she panted, feeling the girth of him sliding inside her. “So deep… God… so deep inside me.” They looked each other in the eye when they came, Gregory whispering her name like a mantra, Elaine biting her lip to stifle the cry of ecstasy threatening to burst forth. He threw back his head on the final thrust and she watched his orgasm play over his face with fascination. He was utterly beautiful.

He spent several minutes kissing her gently, smoothing her fringe away from her forehead and murmuring his appreciation to her: “Elaine… My God, Elaine… You are so worth this… Never doubt that you are the most exquisite creature in the wide world… Thank you, my Lady. Thank you for this amazing night.”


	3. Chapter 3

The repairs to Lady Elaine’s estate home took a solid week to finish. When the workmen were done, one could barely tell anything had been harmed. The room in question had been her library. There had been damage to the doors leading to the solarium, but it was determined that they were broken, not in the efforts of the burglars trying to get into her home, but from a struggle that ensued between the two criminals in question. Those same criminals, along with their gang, and the Chinese connections they had made were all now facing life imprisonment thanks to the marvelous men of Baker Street and one Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.

She couldn’t get him off her mind. His touch, taste, and scent lingered on her skin for what seemed like days. A week after their tryst, she attempted to ring him but became frightened once she heard his confused “Hello?” on the other end of the line. She rang off without saying a word. It was good to hear his voice, like a balm to her jangled nerves, but she hadn’t the courage to say anything, nor had she the words to say. What does one say to a man whom one has had the most thrilling night of one’s life?

Lady Elaine drank the evening’s last cup of tea alone in her bedroom. It was a smaller chamber than most in the house and she liked the coziness of it. A cheerful fire crackled in the grate and the warmth of it made her sleepy. For a long moment she indulged in the fantasy that her overstuffed chair was Gregory and she snuggled deeply into it, enjoying the thought of his arms around her as she dozed.

Below in the main hall there echoed a deep and sonorous knock. The servants were all gone for the evening. She was alone in the house. And as unseemly as it may be, she had no choice but to answer it. Normally, if her husband were still alive, there would at least be a maid to do this rudimentary chore, but with him went his title and most of his estate. She was left with the house and what servants she could afford to keep. Her good friends still called her “Lady” as a courtesy, even though it wasn’t exactly true. It was a kindness she was always grateful for, however.

Upon the repetition of the knock, she made her way reluctantly to the door, wrapping her evening robe more tightly about her. Behind the door she found Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Her eyes widened in surprise as he pushed past her. His coat was wet with rain and it was only then that she noticed the dreary weather outside. He flung his coat over a nearby chair and made his way up to her stairs. He hadn’t spoken a word.

“Mr. Holmes!” she protested. “Whatever are you doing?” She followed after him, attempting to discern what his mission was, for he seemed determined in some mysterious endeavor. “Mr. Holmes, answer me!” she cried as he searched room after room, obviously looking for something. When he gained entry to her bedchamber and stood looking around at her most intimate and cherished possessions, she put her foot down. “Mr. Holmes, explain yourself right this instant or I shall ring for the police!”

“Servants are gone,” said Sherlock, finally looking her in the eye. It wasn’t a question. He knew that the staff had retired elsewhere for the evening. “You and I are alone, are we not?” He made it sound as if he had something of great import to tell her and her alone. Lady Elaine nodded mutely and clutched at her robe. She wore nothing underneath except a light sleeping shift. He stood like a great alabaster statue, eyes ablaze in the low firelight, dark curls shining. He was an imposing figure and Elaine swallowed hard. She knew he was a man of peculiar behavior. Should he choose to become violent…

“Oh pish-tosh,” said Sherlock, waving a hand about in a dismissive manner. “I’m not here to harm you, good lady.” He sat on her bed and bounced, testing it. “I am here on a fact-gathering mission.”

“Fact-gathering mission?” she repeated dumbly.

Sherlock sighed. “Yes,” said he. “I need to satisfy my curiosity and gather data for a conclusion to a mystery that has been bothering me for a week.”

“And what is this mystery?” asked Elaine. “How can I help?”

Sherlock walked up to her, standing far too close to her than anyone should. To her credit, Elaine stood resolute. She would know why this man had burst into her home and now stood in the midst of her bedroom as if he owned the manor and Elaine herself. “I need to know what he sees in you,” said Sherlock.

“Who sees in me?” she asked.

“Greg,” replied Sherlock. “I need to know what Greg sees in you. Why he’s been mooning about for a solid week.”

“Greg… has been mooning… over me?” she asked, incredulous.

Sherlock rose to his full height and looked down his nose at her. “Indeed,” he replied.

It was too joyous a thought to bear. Gregory Lestrade, detective inspector of Scotland Yard, was mooning over her as if she were a debutante. A smile spread across her features and her peachy skin went rosy with a blush. “He said that?” asked Elaine.

“No,” said Sherlock, “But ever since you were together at Lord Greenwood’s, he’s been… different. More distant. He acts as if there’s something missing from his life.”

“How did you know that we…?” she asked, blushing even deeper.

“Oh please,” said Sherlock. “It’s elementary. What I want to know is: what did you do that was so captivating?”

“Mr. Holmes,” she asked tentatively, not wishing to incite his anger, “by any chance… are you… jealous?”

“Certainly not!” he protested. “He’s just been different. And I’ve been unable to placate him. I can distract him with cases and with sex, but it only lasts for the moment. He still drifts off to thoughts of you. I can tell.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What is it… what is it…?” Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her violently.

It was a chaste kiss, but bruising and Elaine could do nothing more than whimper a cry of surprise. He broke the kiss as suddenly as he began it, pulled her away at arm’s length and peered at her. “No… nothing unique there… What the hell is it?”

“Perhaps if you’d allow me to assist you in your investigation?” she offered. She was excited by his energy and his forcefulness was a surprise, but a welcome one. She knew she found him exotically attractive, but to actually have him kiss her opened up a depth of desire she didn’t know she harbored.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Sherlock.

Sit,” she commanded and pointed to a small bench at the foot of her bed. He sat obediently and she stood before him, between his knees. She cupped his face in her hands and with a slight twinge of guilt over Gregory, placed a slow burning kiss onto the detective’s lips.

She had only intended for it to be a kiss to show him what she was capable of when she wasn’t being ambushed by a jealous madman. She had no idea that he would open his mouth to her and explore her so deeply and thoroughly. She knew he was “gathering data”, but somehow it seemed more than that and she responded in turn. When the kiss broke, Elaine could see that he had actually enjoyed it: his eyes remained closed for a second or two afterward, his face holding the most debauched expression.

“Did that help?” she asked tentatively.

“I believe so,” he said, reaching for her. He held her closely and slowly explored her mouth again with his tongue. He was a bit more abrupt than Gregory, but Elaine noticed to her great delight that he was becoming more and more tender as the kiss continued.

He stood slowly, cupping her head to control the kiss, and backed her toward the bookshelves next to the fireplace. Her back against the shelves, he slowly removed her hands from him and held them by the wrists above her head and against the books. As the kiss broke, he trailed kisses down her neck, stopping every inch or two to suck, nibble, or lick against her skin, no doubt noting her reactions to each centimeter of flesh that he covered.

His head came up to look at her; she was the picture of ecstasy. “M-more…” she murmured in her stupor. “Please, Sherlock.” As their eyes met, she saw his flash only seconds before he scooped her up in his arms bodily and carried her to the bed.

He placed her head softly on the pillows and with great care, unfastened the belt of her robe and opened the material to reveal her thin shift which barely concealed her erect nipples and didn’t provide any protection for her milky thighs. He studied her in the firelight for a long moment until Elaine began to feel quite self-conscious. “Is everything alright, Mr. Holmes?” she asked.

He brought his eyes to hers and said, “Yes, my Lady. It’s just… you are…” he cleared his throat and went on: “You are exquisite. Like a Raphael—no,” he amended: “A Vermeer.” He reached a hand toward her legs and halted. “May I?” he asked. He was almost bashful in his approach and Elaine thought it most endearing.

“Of course, Sherlock,” she said and watched as his elegant hands rested lightly on her thighs, the fingertips running the length of her from knee to groin. His hands were slightly cold what with the weather, and gooseflesh sprung up along her skin as he traced icy fire to her folds. She spread her thighs slightly for him and he didn’t hesitate.

His cool fingers felt shocking against her warm wet pussy. He slid one down deep into her opening, pressing in and causing her to moan and gently thrust against him, deepening his touch. He watched her with utter fascination, leaning in toward her with one hand braced on the mattress as the other probed her most intimately. She was helpless to resist the reactions of her body and she could see his focus shift from her face to her nipples as she arched her back with every gentle undulation of her hips. Gingerly, he moved aside the gossamer cloth to free her right breast. He ran a cool fingertip over her nipple in circles and Elaine gasped. “Please, Sherlock,” she said. “Please kiss me there.”

She grabbed at the sheets beneath her as the heat of his mouth tasted her flesh. She felt herself get even more wet with his gentle sucking and when he finally inserted a second finger, she arched her back wantonly and placed her hands about his head, carding through his curls and calling out his name. Everything she begged him to do, he complied until he had her whining and begging to be inside her.

His fingers were amazing, to be sure, but she knew that there would be so much more to it if he were to mount her. She needed to feel his skin against hers: smooth, cool, and hard. She needed to see his skin glowing in the firelight. She wanted to hear his panting breath in her ear, feel the heat of it on her skin. She wanted these things and more. She wanted to taste his kiss and his sweat and to watch him as he spilled himself inside of her.

He removed his clothing so slowly, Elaine thought it criminal. She craved him with every fiber of her being. After what seemed like forever, he stood naked before her and Elaine was awestruck. He was even more beautiful than she had imagined and in the soft glow of the firelight he seemed as though he were carved by Michaelangelo himself.

She put out a hand to welcome him to her and he moved over her cautiously, carefully placing his long limbs around her, but not setting himself upon her. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, a flicker of worry crossing his features.

She smiled, “You won’t, love. Come here.” She wrapped a hand behind his head and pulled him into a slow searing kiss as she slowly wrapped her legs around him. He pressed his erection into her folds, sliding against her wetness and teasing her clit. Her climax built quickly with all the anticipation and she smoothed her hands down his back and gripped his arse, pushing him harder into her. He complied easily and from his stuttered and panting breath she could tell he was close.

As her climax moved over her, she attempted to take in everything that was happening to her: her hands on his skin, moving frantically from buttocks to torso and back again; the glow of their sweat-slicked skin in the firelight; the witch-light in Sherlock’s eyes as he studied her as she came. She arched into him crying out his name. She could feel her wetness spreading as he moved to enter her.

His fingers had prepared her for his full cock and he slid into her with little trouble. She could feel him all around her as they moved together. Elaine wrapped her legs tighter around him, tilting up her hips until her limbs were around his waist. They kissed deeply as they tromboned together, their tongues echoing the slip and thrust of their hips.

Slowly, Sherlock reached down and pinched her nipple causing a ripple of pleasure to wrack her body. “Oh Sherlock!” she cried and buried her face in his neck, grazing her teeth over his collarbone. She could feel him place soft kisses to the side of her face and in her hair and she lifted her head back up to capture his mouth with hers. The taste of him was too divine.

“Cum for me, Sherlock,” she gasped. “Spill yourself inside me. Please.” At her prompt, he lifted himself up with his hands and began quick thrusts inside her. Elaine pulled at her own nipple with one hand for a moment before moving it to her swollen clitoris. He witnessed this with child-like fascination one moment before cumming into her hard. His lean body creating an alabaster curve of skin, muscle, and sinew that was stunning to behold.

Where Gregory had been rough yet gentle to her, Sherlock was lean and hard and utterly gorgeous. He came down from his orgasm as hers built and he kept thrusting into her as she rode another wave of ecstasy. Sherlock collapsed on her gently as she came down and they clung to one another for dear life.

A few minutes and a wet flannel later, they lay staring at one another across the pillows. “I believe I begin to see what Gregory sees in you,” said Sherlock. He reached out a hand and traced his fingertips along her jawline. Leaning forward he kissed her gently and she knew that it would not be the last time they would be together this way.

But God… what were they to say to Gregory?


	4. Chapter 4

She was being eaten up by guilt. It had only been a week since Mr. Holmes’ visit but the memory of it was fresh in Lady Elaine’s mind. She could still see his skin in the firelight and the curious look in his eyes when she came for the second time. The remembrance of the moment had her flushed and she sipped at her tea to calm her nerves.

She sat in what was formerly her husband’s study and stared at the blank paper before her. She thought of what she would write to Gregory to ease her guilt. Sherlock had said that he was mooning over her. Surely then she meant more to him than just a quick roll in the sheets. But then, the gift that arrived today from Sherlock was strangely suggestive; it was a photograph of both men, Greg and Sherlock, a formal portrait taken as a momento of their relationship. And now she was in possession of a copy, thanks to Sherlock Holmes. But what did that mean?

She sipped her tea again, holding the saucer in her hand and leaning back in the chair. She let out a sigh as she watched the paper, willing the letter to write itself. She felt that she was falling in love with Gregory: his manner, his charm, his powerful body, they were all so alluring to her. But then there was Sherlock: strong, incredibly intelligent, and ethereally exotic in his beauty. He was a different person entirely, having no social niceties about him, but at the same time, a lady who was always treated nicely seemed to drift toward a bit of rough now and again. And Gregory, who had some modicum of social mores, didn’t really fit in either. Elaine supposed that both men fit into the category of “rough” for neither of them were the sort of men one shows off in social circles.

And perhaps that was her fascination. They were frowned upon by society. They were forbidden. They were taboo.

A thought occurred to her. Well… more a childhood memory than a thought. She was six and she had on a brand new party dress. Charles Mortimer was having a birthday and mother said she had to go. She wasn’t to get her dress soiled either. It was important for a young lady to be presentable.

Six-year-old Elaine really didn’t want to go. Charles hated her and always pulled at her hair or pushed her. He called her “ginger girl” and stuck out his tongue at her. But Charles’ father and her father were in business together at the bank and she had to get along with him. It was hateful. 

She wandered in the garden for a few minutes swaying her dress to and fro like a bell. It was a pretty dress. She liked it very much. It was white with a pink ribbon threaded through the lace at the bottom and a pink bow around the waist. She spun around and around until she was dizzy, watching the dress flare out around her. Then she fell against the grass.

The white of the dress was marred with green grass stain and brown soil. It was only a small patch of dirt, but Elaine’s mother would be furious all the same. She didn’t mean to fall. It wasn’t her fault. But then a thought occurred to her: if her dress was ruined, she wouldn’t have to go to stupid Charles’ stupid party.

Father used to say: in for a penny, in for a pound.

Elaine looked about her at all the lilies in the garden. Many of them were heavy with pollen. Bright yellow pollen. Slowly she climbed up into the garden and stood among the flowers trying not to crush them. They were thick about her and her shoes sank a little into the soft earth, but as she strode among them, the pollen rubbed off and soon she was covered in the yellow sticky powdery substance. Mother would be angry. Elaine might even get a spanking. But she reasoned that even that sort of punishment was much more agreeable than to spend even a moment’s time with King Charles the Stupid.

Elaine smiled as she remembered just how furious her mother had been: straight to bed with no supper and a spanking to end all spankings. It was comical to think about it now, but even then at the tender age of six she knew that it was all worth it. Her hatred for Charles outweighed any and every punishment she received for her misbehavior that day.

So why did her current predicament cause her to think of that? In for a penny…

Lady Elaine leaned forward suddenly and scribbled off a short note. She folded it in half and stuffed it into an envelope addressing it to Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Seconds later, she wrote a different note – but equally as concise – to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, of Baker Street, London.

 

~080~

 

“My lady,” said Greg as he entered the East Room breathlessly. “I came as soon as I could. What seems to be the trouble?” His worried look was to be expected considering the message that she sent him, but it still troubled her to see the look on his face.

“Thank you, Nestor,” she said to the butler who had let Greg in. “That will be all for the evening. I’ll see you next week.”

“Very good, M’lady,” said Nestor and he withdrew with a bow.

“Tea?” she offered Gregory as soon as the door was shut.

“N-no,” said Greg, confused. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know yet,” said Elaine. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me.” She gestured to a chair opposite her. The East Room was so named because that’s the way it faced in the house, but it was as close to an intimate parlor room that the house had. Anything else was too grand and for this discussion, Elaine could hardly have him ushered into her bedroom.

Greg sat stiffly, still not understanding his presence here. Elaine looked so good to him and all he wanted to do was hold her, kiss her, and thoroughly inspect her body for injury. Her note made it sound as though she feared for her life. It was strange to find her so calm and in control. Something was amiss here. He would get to the bottom of it. “Listen, um… M’lady,” he began awkwardly. Her green eyes pierced his soul. “Please just tell me that you’re alright. Your note made it seem as though-“

She held up a hand to stop his speech. “Yes, yes… I know it made it seem that way and I apologize for the deception, Gregory,” she said. “But I had to be sure that if anyone asked you would have a plausible reason for being here.”

“A plausible reason…,” said Greg, echoing her words confusedly. He raised his head in realization and said: “You didn’t ask me here because you’re in distress.” It wasn’t a question.

Elaine smiled. “No.”

“So… what’s wrong?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Nothing,” said Elaine. She could see he was hungry to touch her again and the knowledge of that thrilled her to no end. “I have a proposition to make.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“How would you feel if I asked you to… become my lover?” she asked. She felt herself blush deeply at the words, but she meant every syllable sincerely.

Greg swallowed hard and replied, “I didn’t dare hope, Elaine.” He moved to her, kneeling before her. He slowly watched himself take her hands in his. He turned each one over and kissed her palms lightly. She cupped his face as he looked up at her, his eyes shining with happiness.

“I’m glad you’re happy, darling,” she said. “And I hope you will remain so when I tell you what I need to tell you.” A look of concern passed over his features but he remained silent, waiting. “Sherlock came by a few days ago.”

“Sherlock?” said Greg. “Why? And since when are you calling him Sherlock?”

“Since he kissed me,” she said in a small voice.

“Since… he… kissed you?” said Greg. There it was: there was the hurt look Elaine was trying to avoid. She knew it was unavoidable really, but she had hoped that it wouldn’t be so painful to look upon. She was wrong. In answer to his question, she nodded. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I meant to tell you the moment it happened,” said Elaine. “But that moment was fleeting. Because…”

“Because…?” he repeated.

“Because in the next moment, his hands were all over me and we- we made love,” she said.

Stunned silence ruled the room for the next few moments as Greg processed this information. “But why would he…?”

“It was an experiment, Gregory,” said Sherlock. The detective stepped from the alcove in the far end of the room and presented himself. “I wanted to see what you saw in her.” He looked at Elaine in an almost loving way. “And now I think I do.”

“But… you… you don’t even like her!” Greg blurted.

“I never said I didn’t like her,” sniffed Sherlock. “I merely implied that she and all her ilk could go to the devil for all I cared.” He looked again at Elaine and smiled softly. “Of course, that was before.”

“Before?” said Greg, getting to his feet. He was beginning to get quite angry now. “Before you shagged her? Is that it? Before you took advantage?”

“I took advantage of nothing,” said Sherlock. “Lady Elaine was more than happy to help me with my little… dilemma.”

“Dilemma?” asked Greg.

“Gregory, please,” began Elaine, getting to her feet. “He felt he was losing you.”

“What?” said Greg, spinning around on Elaine. He stood between them as if he were the ping pong ball in their little game, his head swiveling first to one, then to the other.

Sherlock bowed his head as Elaine continued: “He loves you, Gregory, loathe as he is to admit it.” She looked kindly at Sherlock who continued to inspect his shoes. “He wanted you back and you kept drifting away from him. He simply wanted to see what the fuss was all about. That’s all. Please don’t be angry. After all, you love Sherlock, don’t you?”

Greg couldn’t believe his ears and Elaine’s last question to him gave him pause. “Y-yes,” he said. “I do.” Sherlock looked at Greg when he heard these words. Greg looked at him. “I guess this was more than we both thought it was going to be, eh?”

Sherlock gave Greg a lop-sided grin. “There now,” said Elaine. “That’s all out in the open. Now there’s one element more: my contribution to all this.” She turned to Gregory and asked: “Are you in love with me?”

His chocolate brown eyes softened as he gazed upon her. “I believe I am falling fast for you,” he said.

“And you, Sherlock? Do you love me as well?” she asked.

He looked from Gregory to Elaine and answered: “I can see where the thought of being with you would be…appealing.”

Elaine looked at Gregory, concerned. “Don’t worry,” said Greg. “That’s about as romantic as he gets.”

She grinned and said: “Then I propose to love both of you back.”

There was another pause in the conversation as the two men wrestled with the idea.

“You mean,” said Gregory slowly, “you propose to love us both… at the same time?”

“I hadn’t considered that option,” said Elaine. With a wicked grin she continued: “But if it’s on offer…”

Both men looked at each other asking the silent question. Soon enough they smiled and looked at Elaine as though they were starving tigers looking at their next meal.

 

~080~

 

“I want to watch.”

It was a simple request made by her Ladyship. She had heard about homosexual exploits, but she had never actually borne witness to them in the flesh. She was burning with curiosity.

Elaine fell heavily into the overstuffed chair in her bedroom after having changed into a simple robe to cover her nakedness. It was then that she made her statement. Much to her delight, it was answered readily and she found herself watching the two men kiss and caress each other. Suddenly the room was very warm. She loosened her robe a bit from around her throat, her eyes glued to the scene before her.

The two men were in shirts and trousers, having rid themselves of their outerwear, shoes, and socks at the mere suggestion of intercourse. Greg had gone so far as to unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest. He was undoing his cuffs when Elaine spoke. He glanced at Sherlock.

For his part, Sherlock had been watching Gregory unbutton that shirt and licking his lips. Once Elaine had made the suggestion and Greg looked his way, he took it upon himself to kiss Greg deeply.

Sherlock moaned. He actually moaned when Greg grabbed his hips and brought them to his. Lascivious sounds were coming from the wet kisses, tongues flicking, teasing each other until both men were compelled to strip themselves to the waist. Once skin to skin, the kissing continued, Greg wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders, cradling his curls and tilting his head, back arched. Sherlock ran long-fingered hands down Greg’s back and snuck the tips of his (no doubt cold) fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Their kisses were slow and languid and Elaine thought for a moment that she had been forgotten -- which was fine by her. She could have watched those two all night long with their bodies entwined and the two of them obviously completely engrossed with each other. But then, Sherlock snuck a peek in her direction.

He had his head tilted a certain way and in the firelight his blue eyes glinted and a grin spread across his face as he continued to kiss his lover. It was then that Elaine realized that her mouth stood agape. She closed it with a snap and swallowed hard. Had she not, she was pretty sure she’d have drooled down her front. She felt flush as though with a high fever and she mindlessly passed the back of one hand over her cheek and wound up biting the end of her finger gently just as Sherlock reached down and grabbed two handfuls of Gregory’s well-turned arse. His resulting grunt was enough to make her very wet and her breath hitched.

At first, she didn’t know what was happening, but then it occurred to her, they were rubbing their prominent erections together. She imagined that this would feel exquisite for the both of them, but she had to know. “Does his cock feel good, Gregory?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard her anyway.

He broke the kiss and stared right at her. “It feels amazing, Elaine. So fucking g-good.” Sherlock smiled.

“And what about you, Sherlock?” she asked, a bit bolder now. “Does the feel of him against you please you?”

“In oh so many ways, M’Lady,” said Sherlock as he stared at Greg.

“But surely, this isn’t enough,” she said, half asking, half suggesting.

“No,” said Greg, his eyes locked on Sherlock. He unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers and let them and his pants drop. Sherlock’s cock was hard but the tip was not yet glistening with precum. Sherlock did the same to Greg and took both their cocks in hand offering them some much-desired friction.

The gasp that came from them both at the second of contact made Elaine wet again. She wriggled a little in her seat and brought her legs up into the chair with her. Her hands fell to her crotch. The temptation to touch herself was overwhelming, but she held still. She wanted to see what was next.

Both men ground into Sherlock’s fist, chests apart, which afforded Elaine the best view of the proceedings. By now, both heads were glistening with precum and Elaine licked her lips at the thought of tasting both of them at the same time, running the tip of her tongue around each beautiful throbbing head, teasing each slit, eventually fitting her mouth around both heads at once and hearing each man groan and call her name as her tongue swept and circled both… oh what the hell…

She rose from her seat, unable to contain her desire and before either man could move or say a word, her mouth fulfilled her fantasy. She expected their gasping. She expected hands in her hair, caressing but not forcing. She expected her name to be called aloud. What she did not expect was the sound of wet sucking kisses being exchanged by both of them above her. She pulled off of their cocks, astonished and fascinated.

She stood to her full height and watched them kiss as they watched her. Slowly, Greg took her by the back of her head and guided her toward his mouth and proceeded to kiss her deeply. She could taste him and Sherlock blending with the taste of their precum lingering and it was the headiest experience of her life – until Sherlock joined in.

Their three mouths worked almost in concert, lapping at each other’s tongues, sucking on a lip here, nipping there. Intermingled moans and soft caresses completed the scene as Elaine kissed Greg and moved to Sherlock and Greg moved to Sherlock and Sherlock moved to Elaine. She could have kissed them forever.

Finally they all three stopped as if by some unseen cue and the two men moved to the bed, Sherlock recovering something from his trouser pocket before joining Gregory. Gregory held his hand out to Elaine. She shook her head and took up a position standing at the foot of the four-poster bed, head leaning against the bedpost. Greg smiled understandingly and said to Sherlock: “Her Ladyship wishes to watch us fuck, methinks.”

Sherlock grinned at him. “Then let us not disappoint her.”

Both men knelt and pressed together kissing deeply once again and Sherlock gave Greg what he had recovered from his trouser pocket. It was a small tin of lubricant, oil based, and effective for what they needed. “Prepare me, Gregory,” said Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around and pressed his face to the pillows, arse in the air. Greg smoothed a hand over Sherlock’s back, kissing at the base of his spine gently and working kisses down his buttocks and between his cheeks. Elaine flushed again at witnessing his ministrations to Sherlock: he was so tender and gentle with him and was kissing him in a place that she hadn’t fathomed would bring pleasure. But it must have for Sherlock whimpered and moaned, gasping Greg’s name over and over like a mantra.

Greg looked as though he were kissing Sherlock’s arsehole deeply and after a while she went to the head of the bed and asked Sherlock quietly, “Is he…?” She wasn’t sure what to ask.

“H-his t-tongue… ah!” said Sherlock. He was almost unable to use articulate speech.

Greg had come up for air and was kissing Sherlock’s arse again, placing small nibbles into his skin for good measure. From her standpoint, Elaine could see Sherlock’s cock dripping. She looked at Greg who winked at her. He placed two fingers into the tin pot and smeared the lube across Sherlock’s pucker. Elaine came around to Greg’s side of things and watched in utter fascination as Gregory inserted one thick finger into Sherlock’s opening.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that if Greg were the one to do this to her, she would certainly allow him to. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, however, she blushed deeply and, glancing at Greg, realized that she was wet yet again. This was decidedly new territory for her.

A second finger joined the first and Sherlock sucked in a breath. Elaine asked timidly, “Doesn’t that… hurt?”

Greg smiled. “It’s tight. It burns, but only at first. That’s why the lubricant is used and also why I’m doing this really really slowly.” He held his fingers inside Sherlock and waited. “And then, after he’s had a moment to adjust… I pull out and crook my fingers just so and…” Sherlock let out a cry of pleasure in the form of Greg’s name. Elaine jumped and grabbed Greg’s shoulder. He continued: “And now that I’ve found that pleasure center… I can… stroke it gently… with almost every pass.” Sherlock keened. Sherlock moaned. Sherlock cried out. Elaine knew he had reached the end of his wits when he was begging Greg to enter him. “Isn’t he beautiful?” Greg asked her.

Elaine’s eyes had softened. She was not afraid of Sherlock being injured any longer and felt free to enjoy the pleasure he was taking from being penetrated. When Greg asked her about his beauty all she could do was whisper: “He is unparalleled.” And it wasn’t a falsehood. He was an alabaster god, a dying saint lit by fire and painted by Parrish and she was captivated. She barely took note of when Gregory slicked himself up and entered him, but when he was finally inside, she shifted her gaze between Gregory’s expression, the place of their union, and Sherlock’s responsive writhing. It was almost too much to take in and it was all happening around her.

The hand she had placed on Greg’s shoulder had remained there. Somewhere in her addled mind she remembered it and felt it warm against his skin, bobbing with his movements. Here she was welcome and bearing witness to the most intimate of actions between two men she had grown to care for. She felt privileged to be there. It was an honor.

Gratitude flooded her senses and she took the opportunity to caress down Greg’s muscular back to his buttocks and back up again. He was riding Sherlock slowly, trying to enjoy every inch of himself inside his lover when he felt her gentle caresses and leaned over to capture her mouth in a kiss as he fucked Sherlock as slowly as the genius allowed.

“Elaine,” said Sherlock softly. “Come here, love.”

Elaine broke the kiss and moved to Sherlock, smoothing a hand down his back and placing her face close to his for a kiss. He leaned over to her and licked at her mouth. She felt a hand along her spine and buttocks and she broke his kiss to look back. A lust-eyed Gregory was grinning at her. His chocolate brown eyes were enough to make her faint, but when he moved his hand between her legs and caressed up her thighs to her wet pussy… If it weren’t for her still wearing her robe, she would have probably orgasmed just from his touch.

Sherlock watched her face in fascination as Greg trailed his hand along her backside. He captured her mouth again as she moaned and slowly ground her hips against Greg’s hand. Sherlock pulled away from her and said, “Take off your robe, Elaine, and sit yourself before me. I wish to kiss you.”

She didn’t quite understand how he planned on kissing her if she sat before him, but she was willing to obey. Her robe hit the floor and Sherlock guided her to sit directly in front of him, on the pillows and facing Gregory. As she moved into this position she said, “But I thought you wanted to kiss m-“

Sherlock kissed her alright. Right along the folds of her wet pussy. Elaine gasped and pressed her back into the headboard, tilting her pelvis up to increase the friction. Sherlock nosed at her clitoris and placed small licks inside her labia. It was all a tease that had her temperature rising. She looked up and found Gregory’s eyes. His face held a lost expression as he watched her struggle to find fulfillment pressed up against Sherlock’s face.

Her hands carded through his curls as she gasped and moaned for more from him, but he seemed to be playing keep-away with her climax. Finally she looked down at him in frustration and caught him watching her, his eyes dancing with delight at her predicament.

Lady Elaine was not known to curse. But this time, it was warranted: “You bastard, Sherlock Holmes. You’re doing this deliberately!” She whined the last sentence and Sherlock pressed his lips to her clitoris and let out a low rumbling laugh that launched her into heaven. Her scream and the arching of her body was enough to send Greg to the edge of his wits. It was bad enough that the slow fuck had built and built until he felt he was going to explode, but once Lady Elaine was naked and writhing before him, he was a lost soul. He pounded fiercely into Sherlock, chasing his orgasm until the blinding white light hit and there was release and then nothingness.

As soon as Greg came, he pulled out slowly. A fine sheen of sweat had developed on both men and Elaine caught her breath as she watched them disengage. Sherlock had still not cum. He needed friction and he needed it now. Elaine had only had one climax and his clever brain decided upon a sensible solution: he reached up and through a tremendous effort, slid Elaine down beneath him. His prick at the ready, he entered her smoothly and proceeded to satisfy himself inside her. Elaine gasped at the suddenness of it all, but was soon riding her second climax as Greg slid up beside her and snuck his hand between them to finger her clit as Sherlock pounded her. She found her second orgasm while kissing both men as she came. Sherlock’s orgasm soon followed and he buried his head in her neck as Greg kissed her deeply and told her how beautiful they both were to him.

Sherlock went for a wet flannel and Greg rested his head upon her breast. She stroked his sweat-moistened hair back with her fingertips as they waited for Sherlock’s return. “That was… amazing,” she said to him. His eyes were half closed, but he smiled in response. She kissed the smile on his face and let her head fall to the pillows, feeling a bit lethargic herself.

As soon as Sherlock returned and they made their ablutions, each man took a side and rested on a breast. She stroked their hair gently, murmuring compliments into either man’s hair. They caressed her body with their hands, moving along her stomach here, her thigh there. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, enjoying it all.

Then she felt a warm mouth on her nipple. Gregory. She opened her eyes just as Sherlock did the same to her other breast. She felt her wetness return twofold as she carded a hand through each man’s hair, murmuring encouragement and making soft noises at the back of her throat. Those wandering hands of theirs each found a home as well: Greg’s to her clit, Sherlock’s to her opening. She spread her thighs wide, allowing them entry as they stroked and fondled, caressed and pressed. Through slitted eyes, she watched them watching her. Soon enough, she was thoroughly wet and Greg increased his stroke to a rapid vibration. Sherlock pressed upward against her cervix wall and her breath stuttered as they both continued to suck and flick at her nipples, each man up on an elbow to grasp a breast and angle himself better for more control. As soon as she was about to climax, they pulled off of her and away, each man giving the other a devious look as Elaine voiced another curse. They kissed her for forgiveness and resumed their previous activity.

This went on for several minutes. They would bring her to the brink and pull her back over and over…and as soon as she stopped resisting them, they let her have it all. Back arched completely off the mattress, thighs wide and wet, fingers clenched in the sheets beneath her, her nipples on fire with their kisses and nibbles: Elaine had never experienced such a full and long orgasm in all her born days. She screamed and ranted and wept when it hit her, her body twitching for twenty minutes after it was over, electricity making its way down her thighs from her clit in spontaneous and arbitrary bursts. It took her ten minutes to stop crying, both Gregory and Sherlock kissing her tears away and murmuring comforting words to her to soothe her wracked psyche.

Eventually, she had calmed down enough for all three of them to sneak under the duvet and get some proper rest, each of them facing the same direction and spooning each other: Elaine curled around Sherlock, and Greg curled around Elaine, all of them whispering sweet wonderful words to one another before sleep claimed them. Soon enough all that could be heard was soft breathing, light snoring, and the crackling of the fire in the grate.

It was a subdued and calm ending of the first night of pleasure for the three lovers. But there would be more to come; this was just the beginning.


End file.
